The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-06-11
SOME GIRLS I KNOW.

her at Pike's Hall, Baton Rouge, Monday evening, May l6
 The prettiest flower that is tucked in the cradle of the south is girl. She is bonny and bright and good. There is not too much nonsense about her, but just enough, and we love her, stand in awe of her and think we un- derstand her.
 There is certain beautiful, delicate but sturdy blossom that grows in the soil of many countries. l have gath cred it on the Alps, in an old olive orchard under the quiet skies of Italy, and on the meadows about Stratford- on-Avon. It grows by the Pacific ocean and by the Black sea, on the banks of Alaskan rivers and on our own Louisiana lowlands. It is white, or golden, or "crimson tipped" but wherever it is fouiid it is to the floral world what the girl is to the human world-a daisy.
 A girl is a girl, with variations, wherever we find her. She may wrap her ankles in rags instead of stockings, and beg pennies on the Roman Cam pagna; she may live in London gar ret with the sad dusks of toll and pri- vation and sorrow dimming her young eyes; she may hang over her mothers garden gate spooning in the moonlight with John Thomas. or she may sit here tonight i'll her dainty lace gown smil- ing up at me, or at John Thomas be- side her. but whether she is found by the garden gate, in Pike's hall, or by the Fountain of Trevi, she is forever and always only girl. Only girl, but the rest of the world will right willingly draw up to one side to see her pass by, and send after her that old fashioned compliment
 "Oh, pretty miss, oh, bonny miss;
 Blessings light upon ye
 If had half a crown day
 I'd spend it all upon ye"
 Having gathered daisies and regard ed girls from the Adriatic to the Pa cific, beg permission to take you, my friends, into my confidence and tell you some things about "Some Girls Know"
 Once upon time. when crossing the English channel, fell in with the am- bilious girl. She was tall and slender with lovely Irish eyes, and her name was Katie Connolly, and, as the say ing goes, she had a brogue so rich you might almost have skinned the cream from it. She was an Irish girl, the daughter of a poor gentleman, and was going away from her country home and simple village life out into the world to seek her fortune. Like many another girl, she was starting out in life armed with good intentions, friendly to the world and having a good opinion of the people in it. That she would be drowned down upon by men and women who would put ob- stacles in her path without any motive at all, she did not know. Yet she had started out with small capital oi comfort from her home folk; piercing as a daisy does the clods the crust oi disagproval and unfaith in her that was all the speeding she got from her home people.
 Here, in our own country, we some times send out brave, ambitious girls into the world not any better pro- visioned than was Katie Connolly We laugh at their notions, we predict their failure, we give them this meagre and stingy farewell, without any bon royoge at all. And they put out into the world, half ashamed that they are ambitious, with no better protection than their own innocence, to take, all unaided and uncheered, the upward step in life.
 There is no just reason why we should withhold our friendship and trust from this ambitious girl. When man or a woman possesses the re- spect and confidence and esteem of his or her little community, it is tower of strength, shield against harm, a thwart to all temptation.
 Just at this time of the year another girl whom I know very we'll is about to begin her voyage of life, as she